The Fire of A Gunslinger
by projectseraphim
Summary: The Hero has returned from the Shadow Court. Now it is time to deal with Reaver...


The Gunslinger stomped up the stone steps and threw the doors open, purposely making as much noise as she could. She could feel her blood boiling and her vision threatening to tunnel in; but she didn't care, she was _furious_. The doors to the study flew open.

Reaver turned from the fire, placed his hand on his chin, and gave her an appraising look. "Well, look at you! Still as young as ever. You are a tricky thing, aren't you?" He didn't flinch as she stood nearly toe to toe with him. "And as lovely as ever, if I might add, my little Gunslinger."

She reared back and punched him in the face. _Hard_. Reaver stumbled back a step, and held his cheek for a brief moment before flexing his jaw.

"You _bastard_! You tricked me!" Her hand instinctively went for the clockwork pistol on her hip, but she didn't count on Reaver being fast. _Very_ fast. He was behind her in almost an instant, with one hand holding hers against the holster and the other around her neck, and pressed himself close to her. His grip was strong, but surprisingly gentle.

"Now now, we can't have you do that. No need to prove that your title was well-earned." She felt his breath at her ear and shuddered. His lips curled into an arrogant smirk as he continued, "And besides, I didn't trick you. You delivered my parcel and returned, with no worse for wear. No lies were necessary."

His hips pressed into her and she hissed out a breath, bringing her free hand up to her neck. "Omissions can be as bad as lying. You could have told me what would have happened—what _did_ happen…to that girl."

Her thoughts drifted back to the young woman that stood next to her in front of the Shadow Court. She pressed the Dark Seal into the woman's arms, while ignoring the cries of protest and the pleas for mercy. She didn't even look away as the Judges cast their shadows over the woman and twisted her features. And she didn't feel much remorse for the poor soul, even now. All she could feel was the anger that burned under her skin.

"Now," Reaver's smooth voice brought her back from her thoughts, "that's just a technicality, you can't fault me for that. You made a decision, and I think it was a beneficial one. If one unimportant villager has to suffer through some premature aging, so be it. Better her than you. " He lowered his voice, and huskily breathed into her ear, "If you promise to be a good little Hero, I'll loosen my hold on your pretty neck."

She relaxed the hand that was pulling at his and Reaver loosened his grip on her neck. Instead he grabbed her wrist and spun her to face him, letting go of the hand that was pinned to her hip and traced the boning of her corset before resting on the small of her back. They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Reaver smiled slyly before closing his mouth over hers.

Her eyes widened in surprise before narrowing in anger. She pulled her lips away and then punched him in the mouth with her free hand. Reaver smirked while wiping the blood away from his split lip.

"You are a _fiery_ one, aren't you?" he said as he slapped her across the face. She held her cheek and tried to pull her wrist free. He laughed and his hazel eyes darkened. "I thought you were going to be good…but this is much more fun."

He slapped her face again and she could feel the blood boiling underneath her cheeks. She yanked and twisted her wrist around in Reaver's grip. He laughed again and let her go. She squared her shoulders and hooked her punch as hard as she could across his sneering face. He held his mouth, muffling his laughter.

"I love this game! It is so _much_ fun!"

She couldn't take his laughter. How could he be laughing at _her_? She was The Gunslinger. A _Hero_. She felt a growl escape from the back of her throat and pounced on Reaver, sending them both to the ground.

Straddling him, she punched him in the face again. Reaver's laughter died.

"Now, my dear, that _hurt_." He grabbed both of her wrists and sat up. She was still straddled across his lap, and now their faces were inches apart. She could still feel her anger, no, her _rage_, burning her insides. But looking straight into his eyes, she felt something new. _Desire_. She felt desire, hot and unbridled.

The smirk returned to Reaver's face, "Now, do you want to keep playing this game? Or are you going to be good?"

She pressed her lips against his. She felt his surprise and hesitation for a moment before he returned in kind. Her lips parted, allowing his tongue to explore her mouth. He let go of her wrists and wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer and deepening their kiss.

She pulled back after a few long moments and a clever smirk crossed her reddened face. She socked him again, "I rather like this game."

Reaver threw his head back with laughter, "So I see. Fiery, _indeed_." With his free hand, he pulled back on the collar of her light coat. He only pulled it halfway off and twisted it around his hand, trapping her arms in the sleeves and pinning them behind her back. "Those are dangerous hands that you have. You are starting to hurt this flawless face."

He licked at his wounded lip and smirked at her again, seeming to enjoy the expression on her face as the skin knitted back together.

"What are you?" she asked, with a trace amount of wonder in her husky voice.

Reaver kissed her roughly, laughing in the back of his throat at the small moan that escaped from her. "Your deepest desire."

She couldn't move her arms, but she had another idea of how to hurt him. She brought her lips back to his and drew him in for another wild kiss. She then wrapped her long legs around his waist, gripping it tight and pushed Reaver back towards the carpet. He smiled between kisses, pleasantly surprised by this new turn in events. She returned with a coy smile and started to position them so they both lay on their side.

"Well well, are you the little minx? I have to say, that is—ARGHH!" She had gripped tighter around his waist, rolling him over her and slammed him into the nearby oak table. He hissed in pain, "_Bitch_…" He pulled down on the coat restraining her arms, twisting them tighter together.

She let her head fall back and laughed, "I thought we were having fun."

"Oh, we are..." She felt him _stiffen_, "This is a wonderful game." He crushed her with another bruising kiss and pressed his hips into her. Another moan escaped, but it was from Reaver this time. He felt his temperature rise even higher as his free hand explored her, his Gunslinger. He paused as his hand ran over the holster that held her pistol. He traced the gem that was inlaid into the grip and then felt for the buckle that held the holster to her body.

Gunslinger realized what he was doing and pressed the heels of her boots into Reaver's back, causing his hips to press harder against her. "Leave it…"

His lips curled into an even _more_ sly of a smirk, but he obliged. Instead, he pulled her closer and rolled them away from the table. He sat up, still gripping her to his chest. She gasped in delight and twisted her hips against him, making him sharply suck in a breath. Her eyes were burning into him, and he was enjoying every second of their game.

He unwrapped his hand from her coat, allowing her to pull her arms free, and threw it across the nearby chair. She tangled her hand into his hair and scraped her teeth across his ear, and smiled at the gasp that escaped from him.

"I don't think your particular state of dress is suitable for the occasion, my dear."

"And neither is yours, pirate."

"Fair enough." He pulled away slightly and made short work of the fastenings on her leather pants, while she undid the buttons to his vest and shirt. They rose from the floor together and each shed the various layers of the other. He reached for her holster again, but she grabbed his wrist and wagged her finger at him. She backed away from him, and she was a _sight_ in the firelight. She's lean, and almost as tall as him. Glowing blue lines criss-cross in wonderful patterns all over her skin. Her indigo eyes burned into his and she smiled seductively at him. She backed away farther still, enticing him with her fingers, beckoning him.

He obliged and moved towards her, eyes running up and down her enrapturing form. She backed into the oak table and hoisted herself onto it. He closed the gap between them and hooked both arms under hers and tangled his fingers into her dark blonde hair. She sucked in a breath and crushed her mouth against his, and moaned in the back of her throat. She wrapped her arms around his neck and bit at his lower lip, eliciting a low groan from him.

He couldn't stand it anymore and entered her, burying his face into her neck. He drank in every gasp and sigh that dripped from her lips. He smiled against her soft skin and pulled back on her hair, _hard_, sinking his teeth into her clavicle.

She hissed in pain and twisted her hips against him. Reaver lifted his head up and narrowed his eyes at her, she returned with a coy smile. He smirked at her and bent to run his tongue over the indentations his teeth left behind. She squeaked in response, he purred like a wildcat.

With every thrust, the pressure built within both of them. It's not long before she loses herself and cried out his name. He smiled triumphantly and pushed her down so that she lay flat on the table as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over her. He felt her center gripping him tighter and tighter and soon he reached his apex.

Neither of them move for several long moments. They tried to catch their breath and felt the embers of their passion coolly smolder within them.

The study doors flew open and one of the Bloodstone thugs' rushed in. "Lord Reaver! Bloodstone is under—" He froze like a small woodland animal at the sight of them.

Reaver cocked his head to the side, "Well, what is it? Spit it out."

The bumbling thug shook himself, trying to regain his power over speech, "The town is under attack. I believe it's Lord Lucien's men."

"I see," Reaver backed away from Gunslinger and turned to the chair where his holster is draped across the arm. "Betrayal is a fickle thing, it seems. Betrayed while I'm betraying you." He pulled his Dragonstomper from its resting place and shot the thug in the chest. The poor soul's eyes went wide and he pushed out a gurgled breath before falling over. "I wonder how I will pay for this omission of information, my Gunslinger. The last punishment I received was so…._thrilling_."

He heard the cocking of a pistol behind him and spun to face her. She was inches from him and pressed the cold muzzle against his forehead. "I suppose we will see. Get dressed. You're coming with me."

He softly chuckled, "Thrilling, _indeed_…"


End file.
